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Another door led to a spacious kitchen. Though the walls were atrocious with an even uglier, darker yellow paper, the appliances were stainless steel and clearly fresh from the factory, the counters a lovely cream-and-rose marble. Someone had done some work in here, and her heart pinged with envy. My dream kitchen in progress.
Kenna stopped and waved her arm toward the sink...where Brook Lynn spotted West. He was in the middle of a conversation with a man she’d never met.
“I’ve got this,” she told her friend.
Kenna cupped her cheeks in an effort to gain her full attention. “You sure?”
“Very. Go back to Dane before he starts hunting for you.” Dane Michaelson, once the most sought-after bachelor in town, was now the reason Kenna breathed.
“I happen to like when he hunts me,” Kenna said, wiggling her brows. “Think Animal Planet goes wild.”
“You make me sick. You know that, right?”
“Don’t be jelly. Your time is coming.” Kenna kissed her forehead before taking off.
Brook Lynn’s time wasn’t even close to coming. She had zero prospects. And with that depressing thought, she focused on her quarry. As usual, the sight of West arrested her, even in profile. Not because she was attracted to him—she wasn’t—but because, on top of that ultrafine body he liked to boast about, he had a face worthy of decorating the most beloved romance-novel cover. With his shaggy dark hair and piercing, soulful eyes, every unattached female in town was ready to throw herself at him—and many already had. But though he was nice, even charming and supersmart, he could have been standing in a full swatch of sunlight, and darkness still would have clung to him.
She did not need another fixer-upper in her life, and there was no question the guy would require work.
According to Kenna, whose fiancé had the inside tract, West allowed himself to date one woman per year, for two months. No more, no less. When the clock zeroed out, he dumped the poor, dear thing for some reason or other that sounded purely made up and never spoke to her again.
How crazy was that?
The guy with West was just as spectacular in appearance, maybe more so. Masculine and muscular, yet almost pretty. His eyes were a perfect honey gold, though his hair couldn’t decide between blond and brown. Not that it mattered. The different colors blended together in beautiful harmony. Even his eyelashes started out black before curling into golden tips.
Brook Lynn read their lips to the best of her ability, considering they weren’t looking directly at her and she didn’t know their speech patterns, picking up snippets of their conversation and filling in the rest.
“It’s only been six months,” Honey-gold said.
“Yes, and I want him to survive the next six,” West said. “This is going to cause problems.”
“Not with me.”
West glared at his friend.
“What? What’d I say that’s so bad?”
“The fact that you don’t know makes it worse.”
West and Dane were working on some kind of project together, which meant Kenna, who was never far from Dane’s side, and Brook Lynn, who spent what little free time she had with her best friend, had interacted with him more than anyone else in town. A few days ago, she’d asked him flat out why a guy who so obviously enjoyed the fast-paced city lifestyle had moved here—other than it being the greatest place on earth, of course. He’d merely turned on the charm, saying, “Why, to make all your dreams come true. You’re welcome.”
And now she had to try to get straight answers out of him. Peachy.
Determined, she walked over and tapped West on the shoulder.
He focused on her, a rebuke clearly poised at the edge of his tongue. When her identity clicked, he switched gears and grinned in welcome. “Well, well. If it isn’t the girl I want by my side if ever zombies attack.”
“When they attack,” she corrected. It was only a matter of time. And yes, she was one of those people. A believer. “Where’s Jessie Kay?”
The two men shared a look before Honey-gold took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Hello, beautiful. I’m Beck, and if you’ll give me thirty minutes of your time, I’ll make you forget your friend and most assuredly your name.”
Ah. The infamous Beck. Number two of the bachelors three. “Jessie Kay is my older sister, so I won’t be forgetting her, I promise you. But if you seriously possess the skill to make me forget my name, I swear I’ll find a way to marry you. Still interested in a hookup?”
Something akin to panic flashed over his features, though he managed to mask it quickly. “Forever with a beauty like you?” he said in the same easy tone. “You’re only whetting my appetite, darling.”
Women fall for that? Really? She focused on West—before she gave in to the temptation to teach Beck a lesson he’d never forget. “Where is she?”
West pushed out a breath. “You sure you want to know?”
She dropped her chin to her chest, her gaze staying on him and narrowing. “This conversation is fixing to start annoying me.”
Beck chuckled. “Fixing to start?”
“Something they love to say here. Just go with it.” West frowned and said to Brook Lynn, “You do realize I’ll be breaking all kinds of bro-code rules if I tell you.”
“Better you break the rules than I break your face.”
“Fair enough.” Looking suddenly and inexplicably irate, he said, “She’s in Jase’s bedroom.”
Jase, their other friend? Jessie Kay had turned her sights from Beck to him? Meaning Charlene Burns hadn’t been blowing smoke. Great! “Where is Jase’s bedroom?”
“Third door on the right,” West said, even pointed.
Beck slugged him in the arm. “Dude. What if they’re still busy?”
Busy? As in exactly what she suspected?
A tightness came over West’s features but he shrugged. “Her corneas will burn, but they’ll heal.”
“Dude,” Beck said again. “There is such a thing as privacy.”
Leaving the pair to their argument, she stalked out of the kitchen and down a hallway. The couples who’d migrated this way were pressed against the walls, making out, so no one noticed her. She came to the correct door and prepared to knock, announcing her presence...only to hesitate. If Jessie Kay was totally tee-rashed, the guy was taking advantage of her, and if Brook Lynn gave him any warning, he would stop whatever crime he was committing and hide the evidence. He needed to be caught red-handed.
Then again, if she walked in and interrupted two consenting adults while they were getting “busy,” her corneas would indeed be burned.
What was more important? Her sister or her eyes?
Okay, then. Decision made.
Brook Lynn turned the knob. Or would have, if it hadn’t held steady. Dang it! Locked out.
Well, too bad for Mr. Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar. A lock wasn’t actually a problem for her. Brook Lynn’s con man of an uncle had taught her how to pick anything with a tumbler. And hustle at pool. And cheat at poker. He’d actually taken her allowance every time she’d lost during a “practice” session.
She backtracked, avoiding the kitchen, and soon came to an office with a Keep Out sign posted on the door. Please. After confiscating two paper clips from the top drawer of the desk, she returned to the bedroom door. A quick insertion and twist...yes!...and she was able to push her way inside.
The lights were on. A man stood at the far edge of the bed, pulling a black T-shirt over his head and oh...wow...wow. She caught a delectable glimpse of olive skin and a delicious eight pack that could only be made from adamantium. A maze of intriguing tattoos she would have liked to study in-depth decorated much of his chest, but unfortunately the material covered him a second later, hiding the visual feast of sexy.
One thing became very clear very fast. West and his supposed most perfect perfection could suck it. There was a new and even juicier slice of beefcake in town.
Beefcake paused when he noticed her, snaring her with the most intense green eyes she’d ever seen, making her shiver. Why? Those were not bedroom eyes; they were far too cold for that. They were frosty, practically arctic...but they were also an invitation to do whatever proved necessary to warm the guy up.
She watched as those beautiful, sensual eyes narrowed.
Mortified to be caught staring, she cleared her throat. “Are you Jase?”
He gave a clipped nod. “I am.”
Only two words, and yet she had trouble tracking the motion of his lips. They’d thinned with displeasure, his tone probably stilted and stinging.
“Who are you?” His gaze swept over her as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The strands stuck out in spikes. “How’d you get in here?”
Never admit to your crimes. Uncle Kurt’s voice reverberated through her head.
Never follow your uncle’s advice, baby girl. And there was her beloved father, just before he’d died.
Never forget lies are poison. Her cherished mother.
All three, now gone. A pang in her chest.
“Maybe you forgot to lock the door?” she suggested. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t an admission, either.
“Maybe I didn’t.” His lips were thinning again.
She shrugged. “Faulty lock? Who’s to know?”
He arched a brow. “Did you come here hoping to be spanked?”
Her heart rate kicked into overdrive, the organ pounding against her ribs, as if she’d just been shot up with enough adrenaline to revive a dead horse. “No, I didn’t, but you’re certainly welcome to try—if you want to have your balls surgically removed from your throat.” Had threats of bodily harm replaced proper meet-and-greets, and she just hadn’t gotten the memo?
“What do you want?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Was he trying to intimidate her? She studied him more intensely—and got caught up in his appeal. He wasn’t classically handsome, but then, he didn’t need to be. His features were rugged, total male, with a nose slightly out of alignment and a square jaw dusted with inky stubble, leading to a tattooed neck. Two necklaces hung just over his sternum, one an oval, one a cross. He had wide shoulders, leather cuffs anchored around his wrists and silver rings on several fingers.
He wore jeans that weren’t fastened and combat boots that weren’t tied. Clearly he’d dressed in a hurry. And he could be talking to her right now, but deaf as she currently was, she wouldn’t know it. She returned her attention to his mouth. Once again it was a hard slash.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I need you to repeat that.”
He frowned. “Who are you?”
“Brook Lynn Dillon. I’m looking for my sister, and I was told—” Movement atop the bed drew her gaze. “She’s in here with you,” she finished. If Jase said anything else, she didn’t know and didn’t care anymore. She approached the bed.
The person beneath the covers stretched before sitting up, pale, shoulder-length hair falling into place around a sleep-soft face Brook Lynn recognized all too well. Relief blended with an irritation she didn’t understand as her sister blinked over at her.
Jessie Kay’s lips were moist and red as she clutched a sheet to her naked chest. “Brook Lynn? What are you doing in here?”
She wasn’t wasted, as Brook Lynn had feared, but she was clearly exhausted—from too much pleasure. The irritation spread and spiked.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she demanded.
“Well, the first thing that pops into my head is—annoying the crap out of me.”
A typical Jessie Kay response. “Just...get dressed,” Brook Lynn said. “Let’s go home.”
“No way. You go.” Her sister settled more comfortably against the pillows. “I’m good right where I am.”
“Too bad. It’s late, and we have to work tomorrow.”
“Actually, you have work. I’m calling in sick.”
“No, you are not sticking me with a double two days in a row,” Brook Lynn said. “I’ll tell Mr. Calbert the truth. You know I will.”
Jessie Kay shrugged, unconcerned.
How are we related? “I’m very close to losing my temper with you.” Brook Lynn had only three goals in life: save money, buy Rhinestone Cowgirl and turn her sister into a viable human being.
Love the girl, but I don’t know how much more I can take.
Jessie Kay loved her, too, and hadn’t purposely set out to make her life hell. That was just collateral damage.
“Calm down, Warden,” her sister said. “No need to blow a gasket.”
Warden. A nickname Jessie Kay had given her at the age of fifteen. Brook Lynn gritted her teeth, saying, “Get dressed. I mean it.”
Her sister’s eyes, a darker shade of blue than her own, flashed with impatience. “I told you. I’m not going anywhere.” Jessie Kay said something else, but she’d turned away, and Brook Lynn couldn’t follow the movement of her lips.
“I’m on silent,” she interrupted. “I need to see you.”
Jessie Kay immediately turned toward her, but her gaze got caught on Jase, and she flinched. Before Brook Lynn was able to comment, her sister rushed out, “Okay. All right. I’ll get dressed. Jeez.”
Brook Lynn dared a glance at Jase. He hadn’t relocated from his spot at the end of the bed, his muscled arms still crossed over his chest. His frosty gaze was locked on her rather than the woman he’d just slept with, and she gulped.
“We’d appreciate a little privacy,” she said, praying she wasn’t breathless.
He gave a single, clipped shake of his head. “Sorry, honey, but this is my room.”
Honey? Had she misread his lips? “Well, we want to borrow it for a few minutes.”
“I doubt you could afford my rental fee.”
Depended on the currency. Shivers? Tingles? She currently had those in spades. He exuded the most potent levels of testosterone she’d ever encountered, her deepest instincts recognizing him as the kind of guy every girl should have by her side when the zombie apocalypse occurred.
After a marathon viewing of The Walking Dead, she and Kenna had even mapped out survival plans A, B and C. Glomming on to the first strong (and handsome) man they came across just happened to be the heart of B. Plan A, her personal favorite, revolved around kicking zombie butt while stealing supplies from other survivors—girls had to do what girls had to do—while C boiled down to burning the entire world to the ground.
“Can you at least pretend to be a gentleman and turn around?” she asked.
“I would—if I knew how.”
A quiver ran through her, nearly turning her muscles to jelly. She should not find his unrepentant bad-boy admission sexy. No, she definitely shouldn’t. Somehow she managed to look away from him. He’d just slept with her sister, so he was now and forever off-limits.
